Life in Death
by noiseforyoureyes
Summary: It seemed that now, having defeated death, he couldn't stop dreaming about it. [Set between M1 and Reloaded.]
1. Part 1

**Life in Death**, Part 1  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

_"Loss reflects hope to gain,_

_the darkness leaves you jaded_

_progress is attached to pain,_

_but nightfall's almost faded..."_

[Earthsuit]

***

There was no morning in the real world. 

That was the thought that had struck him hardest during his first sleep period onboard the _Nebuchadnezzar_. And it haunted him still. He wondered if day even existed anymore, if the scorched, lightning-ridden skies above the surface could ever be dissipated. So far they were from where he now lay, deep beneath the earth, trying and failing to get the rest his body was asking for... yet the image of them was burned upon his mind. _Seeing is believing_. He'd violently denied it even then.

Now that he knew, and doubt had no place anymore, the artificial nights on the _Neb _were still no easier to get through. If anything, they were harder. Longer. Awake, he sunk deeper into the troubling thoughts his oversaturated mind provided. Sleep was worse. His dreams had changed since his... resurrection? Was that the only appropriate term? He didn't like it. He wasn't divine - he was just another guy. Still, he couldn't deny what that moment had entailed. He had lost his life only to gain it back, with infinitely more. _With Trinity_. She, if nothing else, was constant. His only constant.

Yet it seemed that now, having defeated death, he couldn't stop dreaming about it. About how it felt, to be up against that wall, bullet after bullet choking the life from him, black entering his line of vision, sliding down

His awakenings were often laced with sweat, which only served to make him colder in the still cabin air. Pulling up the crude maroon blanket, he shifted closer to Trinity for warmth. He much preferred the deceptive, yet comforting dreams of being back on his bed in apartment 101; these had preoccupied his mind early after being unplugged... but at least now, he had Trinity. Back then, he'd had no one. The loneliness had been overwhelming. Part of what had worked his personal splinter closer to surface, no doubt.

As he listened to his breathing regulate, his heartbeat slowing to match Trinity's, he tried to think of only her - his sole clarity - and will the consciousness away

***

Morpheus looked up at the sound of a hatchdoor opening. Neo entered the messhall; he looked mildly surprised to see Morpheus sitting there. _How many times does he come here off shift?_ Morpheus wondered. Looking upon Neo usually lifted his spirits; he was their hope, the silent promise of war's end, walking about his own ship. But now such optimism was mired by concern for the young man, who - though maintaining his sincere, honest demeanor - seemed to be isolating himself of late. And definitely not getting the sleep he desperately needed. _What's troubling you, Neo? _Morpheus left the question unvoiced. He knew how a reply would play out. Neo would attempt a half-smile, look down, shrug it off: "Nothing."

So instead, the captain merely nodded in greeting, setting down his mug of water.

"When do we broadcast?" Neo asked.

"Not for another four hours. There's time to kill." Morpheus eyed him. "Are you sure you can't use a couple of those hours to get some more rest?"

Neo shook his head and took a seat at the table. A pause. Then, "What do you do this early?"

Instigating conversation. That was rare. "I think," Morpheus replied.

"About?"

"About everything. Anything that comes to mind. I like to organize my thoughts; I find it calming."

Neo's dark brown eyes stared back at the captain, trying to register what he'd said. He found dwelling on his own thoughts to be anything but calming. Morpheus seemed to perceive this, though he did not mention it. Many of his previous recruits had had the same problem, even months after being unplugged. _Previous recruits_... his chest tightened, as the images of Apoc, Switch, Mouse, Dozer, even Cypher flashed through his mind. Sometimes he would wake still expecting to see them at their usual positions. 

Neo himself had died, mere hours later. But unlike the others, his position was not left unattended. 

Morpheus wondered vaguely what that was like. To know exactly how dying felt. 

This time it was Neo who turned at the rusty whine of the hatchdoor, from the opposite end of the messhall. 

Tank's usually cheerful face was furrowed in worry. "Sir, you'd better come take a look at this."

Both stood to follow. "What is it?" asked Morpheus.

"The_ Transient_."

***

Neo had never seen another hovercraft before. It was strange. As he'd never been outside the _Nebuchadnezzar_ he really didn't have a good idea of what one even looked like, so the large, circular, blue-lined electromagnetic panels and uneven hull of the _Transient _took him somewhat by surprise. 

"They don't all look alike," Trinity told him. He had given up being startled by her sudden appearances. Had Tank woken her? Or had she simply, instinctively known something was up? It wouldn't be the first time. Either way, she now stood beside him and followed his gaze out into the murky bluegrey of the sewers, resting it upon the dead hovercraft, which was difficult to distinguish amongst similar metal refuse. "After awhile, you begin to tell them apart. The _Logos _ is almost half the size of the _Neb_." She smiled. "But a lot faster."

Neo gave a nod, still staring out the cockpit window. "Is there anybody left down there?"

Her smile faded. "The ship's scanners don't pick up any signs of life." The ghost of a tremor ran through her body. Trinity was good at preventing such things from ever reaching her face. But Neo, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, felt it. He put his hand lightly on hers. "Did you know them?"

She shook her head, and was silent for a few heartbeats. "Somehow that makes it worse."

The ship shuddered, and Trinity recognized the dull hum of the ramp being lowered. Neo had never heard it before, but he guessed what it was well enough as he felt a draft of icy air, colder than anything he'd felt since the liquid of his pod, engulf him.

"Neo, Trinity." Morpheus appeared at the cockpit entrance, face grim. "Come. We're going inside."


	2. Part 2

**Life in Death**, Part 2  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

***

The cold of the sewers, miles beneath the surface of the earth, seeped through Neo's skin and settled into his bones. His flashlight searched ahead, slicing dully through the gloom, meeting other crewmembers' beams at intervals. The slight crunch of metal beneath their feet was the only sound that broke the stillness.

As they crossed the distance between the _Nebuchadnezzar _and the prostrate form of the hovercraft _Transient_, it seemed obvious what the bane of the ship had been. The massive coiled tentacles of a Sentinel still gripped the hull, like the memory of a nightmare. Up close, Neo thought, they were twice as big and twice as creepy. Ducking under one low-hanging arm, he followed Trinity and Morpheus inside. Tank had stayed onboard the _Neb_ to keep watch, lest any scouting Sentinels take advantage of their vulnerable position.

When Morpheus's flashlight found the first body, the air around them seemed to grow impossibly colder. A man lay still jacked in, prostrate in his chair with an expression of anguish - or was it concentration? - on his face, skin already darkening, blood stopped in his veins, and the slight odor of death hanging about him. With a jolt, Neo recognized himself in that man; himself without Trinity there to bring him back. He felt suddenly and intensely unnatural. The life that flowed in his own veins; why was he more deserving of it than this man here? Who had probably fought his entire life, challenged far more without the gift that came with Neo's title.

He felt Trinity's breath warming his face. She put a hand on his shoulder. _How does she always know?_ Even (especially, it seemed) when he tried hardest to hide it, she would immediately sense his discontent. Her nearness somewhat grounded his tension, though it did not leave him.

Morpheus took upon himself the unsavory task of counting bodies elsewhere about the ship. No one had exchanged a word or made a sound since entering. This was a sacred place, not to be disturbed by the frivolous whispering of those who yet lived. Neo and Trinity found two more bodies in the Core, each showing signs of Sentinel impaling. The feed station was black with the operator's blood. Neo found his flashlight returning to that one freedom fighter in the chair, who alone was untouched by the devastation all around him, yet remained just as equally dead. 

Trinity brushed against him, and he looked at what she had illuminated; the operator's hand on the keyboard, clutching what looked like some sort of disk. Carefully, delicately, she slid it out from under his fingers. It was smudged with dark blood. Both were thinking the same thing. Could this have been what caused the _Transient_'s desperation? Something the agents didn't want exposed, information of such vitality held within a battered piece of metal and plastic... could this Sentinel attack have been more deliberate than they'd guessed?

They heard Morpheus reenter the Core, and both swung their flashlights around to face him. He shook his head, once. No one left. The ship's scanners had been right. That was the thing about machines. They were always right, no matter how much Morpheus might venture to distrust their calculations.

He looked down at what Trinity placed upon his palm, and they exchanged a look. At his gesture, the three carefully picked their way outside - none desired to discuss what had been discovered in the presence of the dead crewmembers. They left the gravesite as they'd found it. Dark, cold and alone.

***

An EMP had been blown, of course. But far too late to save even the person pulling it. The situation must have been dire, indeed, for them to forsake the life of the man still jacked in. Tank was working on decrypting the disk; it would take a few hours, at least.

Neo's plague of restlessness had not been helped by the _Transient _encounter. He sat staring at Tank's computer screen, watching the monotonous decryption sequence play out, until Tank finally offered him his mug. Shaking his head, Neo impulsively decided to plug into the Construct for some sparring practice. If it could even remotely ease his mind...

As Tank set the parameters, Neo leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath. After a few moments he felt the familiar sensation of the needle entering the back of his skull and opened his eyes to find... 

Wait. This wasn't the sparring program. 

This was empty white space and a black leather easy chair sitting in front of him. "Tank?" _C'mon, I'm not in the mood for games..._

He looked about to see nothing but more white until suddenly Trinity was there, in an identical chair opposite him. 

"Have a seat." He did. To be honest, he'd known this was coming eventually. He also knew it was his fault for delaying it and forcing her to be the one that brought it up. He looked down, feeling slightly guilty. Not for the conviction he knew was imminent; she wouldn't blame him. But he wondered if somehow his recent disquiet was so intense that it prevented her, too, from sleeping.

She stared at him for a long time before saying anything. So long Neo wondered whether he was supposed to be doing the talking.

Then, "Neo, you haven't slept four nights straight. I know something's wrong." She paused. "And you know you can tell me." Her face softened; silence hung. "I just wanted to remind you of that."

He looked up. His throat seemed to have closed from lack of speech these past few days. Using it seemed a foreign exercise. "Thank you," was all he could manage, but she read the depth of his gratitude in his eyes. She marvelled at the ability of the system to translate even a nuance so subtle as that. His eyes. Holding everything he left unsaid.

Tank's voice interrupted their session. "Hack's complete. Neo, Trinity, we'll need you on this."

***

"Took a lot faster than I expected, really. It's a pair of coordinates - warehouse I think - ain't one of our usuals." Tank hit a key. "Looks clean. Almost too clean." He turned to see three familiar, worn faces hovering above him. "All of you going?" He remembered when 'all' used to encompass a lot more than those that stood beside him now.

Morpheus nodded. "Load us up."


	3. Part 3

**Life in Death**, Part 3  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

The green code cascaded in infinite methods and arrangements, the artificiality of the prison so clearly evident to Neo yet still so lethal. Its lies could kill. Even a free mind had precious little defense. And here he was, privy to the innermost workings of the lie: exposed before him, Neo could follow its patterns, recognize them for what they were, and _change_ them. It was a frighteningly liberating power, one he was only beginning to harness. A hacker's dream and nightmare, all at once.

But here inside the empty warehouse, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The code activity seemed routine, untampered with as far as he could tell. The only thing moving was an erratic wind from the north entrance that picked up the scattered dust particles around him and carried them away. Neo stared down, his vision alternating between code-sight and normalcy. A crackpot abstract film that only he could see.

It was as Tank had said: too clean.

Morpheus and Trinity had split up to take the perimeter. Neo remained to stake out the precise coordinates on the disk, in case something... someone, perhaps? returned.

It was understood without resentment that Neo could handle the unexpected far better than the rest of them could.

Still, he felt claustrophobic, waiting here for 'the reason' to sneak past the boundaries of his senses, to reveal itself, justify the _Transient_'s doom. He hoped and prayed it was justifiable. The dead man in the VR chair would not erase itself from his mind...

Something, then. A flicker. A inaudible whisper, felt more than heard. He tensed, glancing quickly around himself.

Of course. There, on the upper level. Loops of code: weak, fading in and out, almost unnoticeable. Neo found the stairwell and, keeping firmly locked onto the source of the disturbance, made his way up. The creak of rusted metal and rotten wood seemed deafening in the stillness.

Something was scratched into the wall to his right. Looking at it even with his normal vision, it ghosted, there and not there, indecisive in its appearance.

They were numbers. Sixes, scrawled crudely over and over again, covering the small space. Flickering. Neo stepped closer, entranced despite himself. A knife lay on the uppermost box, curved and wicked-looking, obviously the source of the marks. But unlike them, it remained steadily there, refusing to glitch, never doubting its existence.

It was a disturbing scene, and as Neo gazed at it, perplexed, he felt his skin begin to crawl.

Behind him, a voice pierced the silence.

"How do you like it?"

He whirled, and came face to face with something less than a man.

There could be no greater contrast between the two figures: Neo's impeccable, towering, black-clad presence, compared with the hunched, ragged form of the one who had spoken the words. Dead eyes peered up through his sunken face. There was no threat, no malice in them. Neo stared, finding no worthy reply.

"Being the One? How do you like it?" He coughed, and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. When Neo still did not speak, he smiled: it was the most chilling smile Neo had ever witnessed.

"I was like you, once. Had no idea."

Neo's throat felt dry. He swallowed. It finally came: "What are you talking about?" His own voice sounded alien to him. He looked back at the numbers on the wall, but they were gone. The knife remained. None of it made any sense.

"No soul... you've got no soul. You and me. We're walking dead men."

His haunted eyes stared straight through Neo's sunglasses, and despite his every effort to fight it, the memory was creeping upon him, unbidden, the feeling of the first bullet ripping through his skin...

The man was shaking his head, sadly, a manic edge rising in his voice. "It goes on and on... over and over... you're part of it... I'm part of it..."

"What?" Neo heard himself saying, the question breaking from him in desperation. Suddenly the face of the man before him had become the face of the dead rebel aboard the _Transient... _it was wholly a product of his own imagination, and he knew it, but it was still completely paralyzing. He felt like Thomas Anderson again, suffocatingly lost.

And in that moment, the dead man came alive, and the knife was gone from the top of the box, and was buried in Neo's side.

_You are nothing_, Neo told the pain screaming inside his head. _Let go. _ He fought for control over his mind, his hands grasping the wrists of the man who was attempting to choke him to death, pulling them off his neck, keeping them at bay.

"It's a cycle. Can't you see?" The man's eyes were wild and intense, boring into Neo's. "The only way to break it... is to break you..."

Finally Neo mastered himself, banishing the Matrix's insistence that he was seriously wounded, and hurled the man with all his artificial might against the far wall. He crashed into the splintering wood. Silence prevailed, broken only by Neo's heavy breathing, which he forced down, furious at himself for allowing the Matrix to gain so much influence over his mind. He pulled the knife out of his side and tossed it away.

But the man was not finished. He crawled back to his feet across from Neo, blood dripping, glaring now with open hatred. "The sixth," he spat. "Paving way for the seventh. How much longer?"

Neo composed himself, and said, as evenly as he could through the cloud of pain that threatened to suffocate him, "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. I didn't either. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you be a man, and end it yourself." He gestured towards the bloody knife that lay mere feet away from Neo. "Pick it up and end it."

The bewilderment was evident all over Neo's face, despite his eyes being masked. The man was growing more agitated by the moment. "Pick it up, or it goes on!"

A shot rang out then, echoing loudly in the confined space of the warehouse. For a heartbeat, Neo was sure he was having another flashback, that it was Smith standing there in the distance, and that the bullet was for him.

But no... the dead man across from him dropped like a stone, and Neo saw Morpheus at the top of the stairwell, holding an automatic, with Trinity behind him.

His heart sounded loud in the quiet that followed. _Shut up_, he ordered it. The blood seeping out of his side was virtually invisible on his black coat, and he hoped Trinity wouldn't notice, but her eyes flicked to the knife, and she made the connection, and was at his side in seconds.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I can fix it."

She nodded, but did not let go of his shoulders. They trembled almost imperceptibly as he worked at rectifying the code within his own RSI. The sheer force of will needed to both change it, and to block the pain it was causing, was exhausting.

But within moments, it was done. She helped him to his feet, and they faced a concerned Morpheus.

"Neo, what happened?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't tell you."

"Who was he?" Trinity asked.

_Me_, said a voice in his head. It made no sense at all, and yet, he felt the grain of truth in it. _Why? _He couldn't put name to the dread that had settled deep in the pit of his stomach, a more tangible fear of the path before him than he'd ever felt before. _I wish I knew what I'm supposed to do. _

"Tank has an exit ready for us. I'm afraid we've already compromised our broadcast point." He did not say how.

The unspoken thought on all their minds lay heavy in the air between them: was this all they could do for the _Transient_?

But the Sentinels would be coming soon, and they could certainly do nothing better dead.

And so they left the warehouse, and Neo dared not look back at the corpse of the man who had challenged him, which lay in a widening pool of crimson, utterly extinguished save for his words that Neo feared would never leave him. _It's a cycle, can't you see? __The only way to break it, is to break you... _


	4. Part 4

**Life in Death**, Part 4  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

-----

The bodies of the _Transient _crewmembers had been carefully removed, wrapped, and brought onboard the _Nebuchadnezzar _in the space of an hour; they were now miles out of range of the Sentinels Tank had spotted earlier. The task had been a somber one, all too reminiscent of the aftermath of their own tragedy only months before. It ignited a cold, smoldering anger in each of them. Neo had learned long ago that as a freedom fighter it was his duty to embrace and hold onto that anger, for it was what distinguished the rebels from the machines; anger in place of ruthless indifference. The righteous fury of a freedom fighter gave one focus. They did not allow it to become a crutch for self-pity, nor a gateway to deterioration. They clung to it and centered it. It was what kept them going.

An uneasy silence pervaded the mess hall that night. The ultimate failure of the _Neb_'s venture into the Matrix lay heavily on all their minds; each crewmember felt a piercing, guilty restlessness. They wanted to do something, _anything_, to honor those deaths, give them meaning... though ultimately, they knew, that meaning was not theirs to give. Still, the thought of returning to Zion with nothing but the location of the wreck and an inexplicable mystery attached to its demise was maddening.

Neo stared at his dinner, of which he had eaten a maximum of one and a half bites. He could hear the methodical clinking as Morpheus, Trinity, and Tank all dutifully finished theirs. He knew he should, for many reasons, but he couldn't, for so many more. He was waiting for the question - still trying to form his answer, finding with increasing frustration that whatever specifics he could think of only added to the confusion.

"What did he look like?" it finally came.

Neo knew that Morpheus was not asking about the man's RSI.

He chose his words carefully, wanting to phrase what he had seen correctly. "He wasn't plugged in," he said, decisively. "But he wasn't a program either." He fingered his mug. "The code described a human, but there was no connection to the mainframe." A pause; he swallowed. "It's like he was..."

"A ghost," finished Morpheus.

Neo met his captain's eyes for the first time that night, and nodded.

Trinity stole a glance at the two of them: so quick everyone doubted it had come as soon as it was over.

"What did he want?" Morpheus wondered to none of them in particular, brow furrowed in consternation, voicing the question they had heard in the quiet all night.

But Neo wasn't so sure it was what he wanted, as much as what he knew, somewhere in those cryptic ravings, that the system was intent upon eradicating...

-----

He watched the dripping codelines at the feed station with increasing detachment. It was his shift, normally something he looked forward to, because of the legit excuse to avoid sleep. But now he felt his usual restlessness clouding over, the day's events having drained him, emotionally and physically, far more than he wanted to admit. He crossed his arms over the keyboard and propped his chin up, staring ahead with futile purpose, not even noticing it when his eyes closed, still seeing the green symbols in the dark...

-----

Trinity always felt like the only person alive when she awoke for her shift - when the dissonance of her thoughts died away and she was left with the all-pervading silence of the underground, intensified by the absence of Neo's breathing by her side. She crept off towards the Core, knowing each step and railing by heart in the darkness. Ready to take up her duty and send him away to get whatever rest he could - probably none, as usual, she thought with a sigh, especially in light of what had happened earlier that day.

But the sight that instead met her eyes brought her to an abrupt stillness. She tensed, hesitant to let out a breath lest she disturb the scene. Bathed in the glow of the computer screens was Neo's sleeping figure, his head resting in the crook of his arm, expression serene: not wholly unlike that fateful moment she had first contacted him inside the Matrix, though the situations, of course, were entirely reversed. He seemed now, as he had then, so openly vulnerable, his chest rising and falling more steadily than she had seen in ages... a dreamless sleep, for once? She hoped so.

Quietly she stepped forward, no longer with any intention of sending him anywhere. Instead, she knelt by his side, gazing at him for a handful of moments, feeling a peace melt over her just from watching him. The weight he bore, the responsibility, what he had seen and experienced in the past few days - she saw no trace of it in him now. He seemed to have retreated, finally, to a place they could not reach.

She placed her hand like a shadow on his shoulder, and rested her head against him, facing the screen, watching what lay in the depths of that green ether.

They stayed that way, all through the night.

-----

He woke to red, enveloping his sight and mind: flashing on the screen, screaming from the alarms, lighting his every nerve on fire.

PROXIMITY WARNING

He tore his eyes from the screen and stumbled to his feet, hardly having a moment to register the fact that he'd been asleep and curse himself for it before Trinity intercepted his line of vision. "The EMP," he breathed.

"Charging," she said, and suddenly Morpheus was there, and all three of them ran for the ladder to the control room. Neo glanced back before going up, waiting for Tank to appear --

The moments passed, but no one was coming.

Neo felt his stomach sink. Surely he must have heard the alarms?

Trinity caught onto the source of Neo's hesitation, and dashed in the general direction of Tank's room. Neo manned the operating station for the time being, checking their status - four minutes, max. He looked at the glowing EMP, ready the instant the squiddies came into range, and then looked desperately at the Core entrance. _Tank, what the hell? You're the most reliable man we've got... _

Morpheus climbed down the ladder from the control room, concern etched on his face. "Neo, where...?"

He shook his head. Trinity reentered the Core, heading straight for an EMP gun. "I think he's outside," she informed them, while rather violently hitting the switch to lower the ramp.

They all instantly followed suit.


	5. Part 5

**Life in Death**, Part 5  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

-----

The three of them practically slid down the ramp in their haste, breaking the silence of the sewers with the crunch of metal and heavy breathing, and Morpheus's low, insistent voice: "They're coming in too fast. They know we're here."

This was no routine level check. The only way the Sentinels could have locked onto them while still so far out of range was if they'd been alerted by an outside party - a knowledge that only sharpened the nervousness with which Neo, Morpheus and Trinity cast about in the dark. An EMP blast was unthinkable, suicidal - without any power, a second wave could come and wipe them out entirely. A singular line of thought drove them all: _Get Tank, get back inside and get the hell out of here. _

Neo clung to his EMP gun with fierceness, as if it were the last defense he had against the madness of the situation. He'd never used one before, but guessed he would figure it out quickly enough if a big, ugly Sentinel suddenly started bearing down on him. He was prepared to stay out here and fry as many squiddies as need be if it meant Tank's life; and he knew Morpheus and Trinity felt the same.

The _why _of it all could not be dwelt upon, not yet, without risking a complete breakdown of purpose. They had to find Tank; it was as simple as that. The reason he had come out here was secondary. The Sentinels would be down upon them in less than three minutes...

Neo glanced over at Trinity, and saw reflected in her the same manic intensity he felt as he searched. Too many had been lost in too short a timespan; it was almost suffocating to think of losing another. And Tank was their sanity, in so many ways. His comfortable familiarity kept them grounded in the drive of the mission, one that would consume them if they let it. _No._ The crew of the _Nebuchadnezzar _had already become too pitifully small for the proud size of the ship. Not one more crewmember would be surrendered... not again, and not so soon.

_Tank, damnit_. Neo felt his stomach sink as the empty darkness around him returned no movement, no flicker, no sign of life. He saw Morpheus returning from a second trip around the perimeter, face heavy, and thought he saw unguarded disbelief in those eyes as the dim light reached him. _How ironic_, Neo thought, with no bitterness. _Morpheus failing to believe something._

In the distance, a faint hum began, felt more than heard. They all knew what it was; it didn't deter them, only set their wills in stone. There was a click as Trinity raised her gun. She gestured curtly for he and Morpheus to continue searching. They didn't argue, but kept their own guard.

Neo felt a chill as he looked back and realized how far they'd strayed from the _Neb. _Two minutes was all the time they had left; they could very well be dead in three, or less.

_What a constructive thought_. So absorbed was he in pushing it from his mind he almost missed the slight red hitch in the grey scenery that his flashlight beam had suddenly skimmed over. He swung it back immediately, to illuminate the bloody, stumbling form of their estranged operator, making his way quite unceremoniously over the wreckage.

_"Tank!" _Neo was surprised at the force of his own voice as the name tore from his throat, managing to carry over the steadily growing buzz deep in the tunnel. Trinity turned instantly, and Morpheus was already closing the distance between them as Tank looked up in the dull glare of the flashlight, his expression clearly reading _get the hell back inside, you idiots!_

Morpheus and Neo each gripped one of his arms and held them firmly around their shoulders, wincing as they took in the extent of their comrade's injuries. A nasty gash had opened up his entire left side, and he was bleeding threateningly from low in the neck. Trinity appeared in front of them, and her face for once was open with what they all felt: fear, shock, horror, and the desperate, fleeting hope that he could somehow be saved.

As they scrambled over grit and metal together, Tank made a valiant effort to speak. "Home..." the word came out in a wheeze; Morpheus hushed him, but he shook his head, obviously frustrated with himself, setting his jaw and summoning up more energy than he had left. "Homing device. On the disk," he took a quavering breath, "They set us up. Damn pieces of _shit_..."

Trinity exchanged a look with Morpheus, as the roar of the incoming Sentinels blocked out all other sound. Only a dozen or so meters were left between them and the _Neb_... Trinity sprinted ahead of them and inside, making a beeline for the controls. They'd have to escape this wave the old-fashioned way.

Neo turned to see the first Sentinel come screaming into range. Had he more time to dwell on the situation, it might have amazed him how swiftly he was able to raise his EMP gun, take aim, and fire, watching the mechanical beast shudder in the blue electricity and then drop like a stone.

Then, without warning, the event recurred in front of him; but his gun was gone, and it was merely an outstretched hand - his own - between him and four other Sentinels, all shorting out at once.

The vision was gone in an instant, and in that outstretched hand a gun reappeared, the force of its energy taking him by surprise as it fried its third Sentinel. Morpheus's voice came into focus, shouting his name.

"Neo! _Now!_"

Disoriented, he turned and dashed inside, feeling the ramp below him rise even as he ran.

Tumbling onto the main deck, he saw Morpheus heading for the gun turrets. Tank was leaning heavily in the operator's chair, still bleeding a frightening amount. He felt Neo's stare and dismissed it. "Go, Neo, or you're _all _gonna look like this."

As Neo slid into the seat of the second rear gun turret, he felt for the first time the cold sweat that had drenched him in that peculiar moment of... what? Clairvoyance? What the hell was wrong with him? He struggled to clear his mind. Protecting the mind was a necessary and natural means of survival in the Matrix: so why was it so damn difficult to do in the real world? He shook his head. Staring at the VR screen in front of him, he grabbed the triggers and shifted all his focus to eradicating those relentless red dots.

Trinity's voice came through the headset, and despite the terse warning in it, it calmed him considerably. "Six kilometers."

Six kilometers left to wipe out this wave, and finally fall off the map enough to burn the EMP.

He didn't let himself think, then, of all the unanswered questions that had been piled anew upon the four of them in a matter of hours. He simply thought of Tank stranded in front of that feed station: all too symbolically, their sanity slowly ebbing away as the minutes passed. He saw two more Sentinels turn into fireballs lighting up the tunnel, and took a deep breath.


	6. Part 6

**Life in Death**, Part 6  
by noiseforyoureyes

disclaimer: the Matrix owns me.

Set between _The Matrix _and _The Matrix Reloaded_.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who have waited so patiently for me to get my act together; I promise to be quicker about posting chapters in the near future, as the semester winds down. This one was especially tough to write.

* * *

The aftermath of the EMP blast was soundless, still as death. For a few heart-stopping seconds, Neo was certain he'd gone deaf. It was always that way; no matter how many times he experienced this empty hole in time, the edge of the panic never wore off, and he rode the wave of it now with teeth gritted.

Then the familiar dull grey-and-blue world of the _Nebuchadnezzar _came back into unsteady focus, and his breathing, low and heavy, filled his ears, sharp against the silence. He stared ahead at the dead screen in front of him, his reflection gazing back out of the black ether. Tired, worn. Years etched there instead of mere months.

He turned away, unable to meet his own eyes.

With painful care, he pried his fingers from the rusted gun-triggers, slick with his sweat. Morpheus stood out of the corner of his eye, and he forced himself to do the same, untangling his legs and arms from the now-powerless jungle of wires and electronics that trapped them. Shakily, he found his balance.

Then a chill swept through him as he realized how close it'd been: too close. There had been no rhyme nor reason to their flight - it'd been mayhem, a mad struggle to stay in one piece while falling as far off the map as fate would allow. The _Neb_'s sickening shudders as the Sentinels had again torn apart the outer hull still rang in a dead, ghostly buzz through his body. His gunfighting had been completely without technique, the sheer number of red eyes that filled the viewport throwing his senses into disarray. Without Morpheus covering him, without Trinity's deft piloting, without Tank keeping them on the alert, yelling his faithful warnings, knowing exactly where those random, hidden forks in the tunnels opened up... with no concern for his own shortening life...

Neo briefly entertained a moment of dark cynicism. _All for what?_ The chance to shoot both themselves and their enemy in the foot? To start a new race: who can recover the fastest, who can gather enough primitive strength to strike the next blow.

That the only real, threatening weapon they had against the machines required such a crippling act struck him as bitterly ironic. Here they were, stranded, powerless, one of them dying, too many already dead. He thought he had been through with feeling that utter lack of control when he left the Matrix.

But all too often lately, the real world was reminding him that it had no loopholes.

They'd made it, yes. They were far away from whatever homing device Tank had been out there so desperately getting rid of.

But at what cost?

Neo turned to face his captain, and with no more than a glance exchanged between them, they both hurried for the Core.

* * *

Trinity was already with Tank. One hand clasped his tightly, the other rested a ragged cloth firmly against his neck to staunch the bleeding. His side was temporarily bandaged with the salvaged ruins of his sweater, but it could do nothing for the blood that had already been lost. As if attempting to escape that simple fact, Trinity absorbed herself in her task, hardly looking up when she heard Neo and Morpheus approach. Tank turned his head minutely at their footsteps.

He looked like hell. But he still managed to crack a weak smile as they entered.

They could not find it in themselves to smile back.

Their denial seemed to drain from the air like sand slipping through will-less fingers. It was known, somehow - to all of them - that those uneven, labored breaths Tank was taking were numbered. Wordlessly, Neo and Morpheus helped Trinity brace him and carry him the few torturous steps towards the medbay. The enormity of what was happening enveloped them in silence.

It was amazing how aware you became of someone's life - every quirk, every blink, every sigh - when faced with their death. Time was slow, but inevitably moving, and they let it pass with anxious, oppressive dread, waiting in a kind of reverence for him to speak.

Trinity's mask of calm control as she fussed with the details - hooking Tank up to support, programming the comps to analyze his vitals - was more transparent than ever before, dangerously close to a breaking point that none saw more clearly than Neo. He touched her arm gently, and it went through her like a shock. She looked up at him for the first time since he and Morpheus had rejoined her, and though the anger in her icy eyes was not directed at him, he felt it should be. _I'm sorry, Trinity. _It seemed that ever since he'd come here, nothing had followed him but death, tragedy, pain - in all its forms. _Some savior._ Was this what the One was destined to bring?

Then Tank stirred again, and they collectively held their breath. His eyes won a temporary struggle to keep focus, and when he saw their stricken faces, he brightened: balancing out the miniature universe of the _Nebuchadnezzar_, as always.

"Don't look so damn depressed." He coughed, and no one smiled. Sobering, his lids drifted closed. "Was only doing my duty."

"Tank, you didn't tell anyone." Morpheus's voice was inflected with remorse, his brow creased in what looked like the beginnings of despair. Neo couldn't tell who between them hurt more to watch.

Tank shook his head strongly, and Trinity placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"And get you all killed with me?"

Several unspoken responses hovered in the air.

"Any of you would've done the same, and don't deny it." He tried to add a lighter edge to the last few words, but it fell flat. He leaned back and sighed: a long, shuddering sigh that they all felt.

As captain, Morpheus realized with reluctance that he would have to be the one to withdraw the confirmation they needed - something that would be irretrievable soon, even if it seemed so ridiculously trivial in the face of what was happening. He let the empty words fall from him.

"The homing device," he started, quietly. "Was it..."

Tank cut him off.

"They rigged it after..." he swallowed with effort, but could not finish the thought. Would not. He repeated the word under his breath, nothing else needed. "After." That one admittance seemed to sap all remaining energy from him, and he fell back into a haze.

_After_.

After slaughtering the entire crew of the _Transient_, with the flawless efficiency that could only be attributed to a machine.

Neo tried to relish the hatred that came with such a thought, but found it harder to hold onto... tampered by that inexplicable vision, the unsettling memory of four Sentinels mere feet away from him, his outstretched hand acting as an impossible shield... an image of power that repulsed him, frightened him... _he had felt them._

He shuddered and pushed it away, as he did with so many other things, to fester in his subconscious.

Tank shifted towards Neo, then, startling him out of the infamous cage of his thoughts.

He was caught by Tank's firm but fading gaze, and the cramped metal room seemed to tilt as Neo took a step forward and leaned down, wondering why he was the one being wasted words on - he who had known Tank the least, who was the cause of all this, their curse, their bane, the reason, in some convulted way, that he was lying there in front of them all. It wasn't right.

But, he also realized, it wasn't his choice to make.

And so he gripped the side of the medtable, trancelike, with quiet determination, not wanting to miss a syllable.

The words were gritted and weak, but Tank through and through.

"You kick their sorry asses for me."

* * *

Trinity was curled up on the far corner of their bed, and did not move when Neo entered. The loud creak of the hatchdoor opening mocked the silence. Neo stood in the doorway, watching. She could feel his stare, even with her back to him. Her knees were clasped tightly to her chest, black hair that she had only just begun to let grow out falling around her face, hiding it from him.

It wasn't that she was trying to avoid him; God knew what a futile attempt that was. Like slicing out her own heart and expecting to live more than a handful of seconds without it. It was simple fear that kept her this way: the fear that she might break if she looked upon him.

But she needed to break, she understood that now - it was the lesson he had taught her when he'd first turned her world upside down four months ago. The haphazard way she had tried arranging herself all her life needed to be shattered, so that she might be put back together stronger, wholer than she'd been before. That was what he did for her, without fail.

And she knew it was what he needed her to do for him, now.

It was what they both needed.

She could feel his guilt filling the short space between them... along with a paralyzing fear of touching her, trapped like some twisted form of Midas. Why he always took every burden, every blame, so naturally upon himself, she would never understand.

The sound of her name finally caused her to turn, the wretched desperation in his voice - to a degree she'd never heard before - convicting her with force.

"Trinity..."

* * *

They clung to each other like life, drowning mutual weakness in mutual strength, their grief washing out through hot tears, each trying to still the other's trembling.

Morpheus stopped at the open doorway, hesitating, and was moved as he witnessed the last two members of his once-proud crew silently reaffirming what they had left. Two solitary souls, finding some measure of shared will in the other. The sight brought an unfathomable glimmer of hope into the bleak sorrow of that hour.

He continued watching them for a steady moment, humbled.

Then he bowed his head and walked away.


End file.
